“I wouldn’t call it nothing, Vic.” He pointed out past the front gate. “The world is essentially dead out there. We’ve got our lights burning at night and it’s basically advertising ‘Here we are! Come and eat us.’”
She gave him an understanding nod. “Maybe. Maybe it’s saying: ‘Hey, we’re alive over here. Come and join us.’”
Hatcher blew his breath out slowly and gave her a tight-lipped smile. “I wish I could believe that.”
“Why not, Daniel? Not all people are infected and not all people are like that Simon guy. There are people out there like Jason and Brenda who just need a place to lay up, catch their breath and…live.”
“Brenda is dead, Vic.” Hatcher looked at her and she seemed almost hurt by his words.
“She wasn’t with us when she died though, was she?”
He shook his head. “No, she wasn’t.” He turned back to the gate and stared out into the city. “But she was with the military and if they couldn’t keep her safe, what makes you think that we could have done any better?”
Vicky sighed heavily and gave him a sidelong stare. “When did you become so cynical? You used to believe in the goodness of people.”
“That was before the world went to hell. Now it’s dog eat dog…or, Zulu eat dog.” He threw his hands up. “I’ve reached a point where I don’t trust anybody.”
She raised a brow at him. “What about us, Daniel? Do you trust us?”
He gave her a surprised look. “Of course I do. It’s people out there that I question.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.
“Why? Because if they’ve survived this long then they must have screwed somebody over to get this far? Or maybe they’re all axe murderers just looking for a place like this to ‘up’ their body count? Please.”
“You’re not funny.” Hatcher poured the last of his cold coffee out onto the ground and squinted at the rising sun. “People are who they are. Some are good but they’re usually ones that go first. They try to help somebody and get eaten. Or scratched or bitten or…generally taken advantage of.” He sighed and lowered his gaze to the ground. “I’m just tired.”
“Of trying?”
“Of everything! Surviving. Fighting. Worrying.”
“Then stop worrying and let yourself live a bit, Danny.” She reached out and spun him around. “You’re carrying all of this on your shoulders and you don’t have to. Why do you think we had our little ‘come to Jesus’ meeting yesterday? We’re worried about you.”
“And I’m worried about everybody.” His face was stern, but his eyes looked worn out and exhausted.
Vicky pressed her palm to the side of his face and gave him a soft pat. “You’re not dad, Danny. It’s not your job to worry—”
He pulled her hand away. “Yes, Vic. It is my job to worry.” He stepped back from her and pointed beyond the gates. “The world out there is cold and brutal and dangerous. And in here, people are already getting complacent. They think they can’t be touched. They think…” He forced himself to stop and he turned to her. “One wrong decision and the whole place could fall. Everyone inside, a victim to a madman or a horde of Zulus. Either way, there’s no recovering from that.”
Vicky shook her head at him, her face stoic. “You can’t be reached. You’re too far gone.” She turned to walk away.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at him. “You never left that goddam park, Danny. I hoped when went back that you’d find whatever it was that you lost but instead…”
“What?”
“You just lost what little of you was left.”
Carol was awakened by a knock at her door. She sat up on the edge of the narrow bed and rubbed her eyes. A quick glance at the clock on the wall assured her that it was morning.
She opened the door, stifling a yawn.
“Your request for materials has been approved.” The yeoman handed her a sheet of paper and she squinted into the darkness of her room. “What’s this?”
“The action event approval from the skipper. He’ll be briefing the strike team shortly. Hopefully, by the end of the day, you’ll have what you need.” Carol smiled and handed him back the sheet. “That’s your copy, ma’am.”
“I don’t need it. All I need is what’s on that list.” She nodded to the yeoman and shut the door. She stared at her tiny bed and knew there was no way she could go back to sleep. “Yes! Might as well prepare.”
She quickly dressed and made her way to the lab. Broussard was already inside, moving equipment to free up space.
“I take it you heard?” She stood in the doorway, a smile painted across her face.
“Oui.” Broussard lifted the larger microscope and moved it to the far wall. “I am making space for our new project.”
Carol sat down gently and watched as his excitement grew. “We still have to figure out an effective way to disperse the new variant.”
Broussard nodded as he wiped his hands. “I may have an idea.”
“A good one?” Carol spun lazily on her stool while she spoke. “Tell me it’s actually workable.”
Broussard nodded. “I believe so.” He pulled a stool out across from her and sat at the stainless steel table. “Remember, the original virus was sent into the air at Yellowstone.”
“When the bombs fell.”
“Or the caldera erupted, depending on which story you choose to believe.”
“Okay. So what about it?” She leaned on the table and studied him as he spoke.
“So, we make this variant an actual airborne illness. Not one that needs to be ingested or settle on a cut or sore, however the original virus invaded the body, this one we simply breathe in.”
Carol’s eyes widened. “But…that would infect everyone. That doesn’t sound like such a winner idea to me.”
Broussard nodded. “Oui, it would. However, remember that we are neutering the virus. We are making it asymptomatic.”
She shook her
